The Ordinary Girl
by PepperF
Summary: She didn't want to be a mutant, and she certainly didn't want to be a superhero: she wanted to be ordinary. WolverineRogue, AU, T rating is for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

"She didn't want to be a mutant, and she certainly didn't want to be a superhero: she wanted to be ordinary"

AU. This story started out going one way, and then it went off at a tangent. And then off on another tangent... It started as an idea inspired by a book called 'The Ordinary Princess' by M.M. Kaye, but along the way it's picked up shades of 'Danny the Champion of the World' by Roald Dahl, and 'Frankenstein', too.

Disclaimer: Characters ain't mine. Story is.

Further disclaimer: I ain't no outdoorsy type. All that sort of stuff is made up, or gleaned from watching Ray Mears on the telly. Pray gloss gently over it, if I make glaring errors.

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_Chapter One_

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Patrice ran the Princess Bar, and she knew Trouble when she saw it. She'd had years of experience, and right now, Trouble was standing in front of her in a coat far too thin for spring in Alberta. Looking for work. Sure, thought Patrice. Work. More likely the girl was running away from something, God alone knew what. And as far as Patrice was concerned, God could keep it to Himself. She allowed her eyes to scan disparagingly up and down the girl's thin frame, taking in the muddy boots, the tatty black jeans that had once been quite expensive, the old-but-decent shirt, the gloves she was still wearing, and came to rest on those evasive brown eyes. Patrice gave the girl the coldest dead-eye look she could muster, continuing to stare until she was squirming with embarrassment.

"Can you dance?"

The question threw the girl for a moment, then her eyes drifted upwards in realisation to the cage that hung like a gibbet over the main floor. "Up there?" she quavered in a soft southern accent.

"Yeah."

"C-clothed?"

The girl's stammer made Patrice feel a little guilty, which just made her crosser. "Yeah: coat, hat and gloves," she said sarcastically. "**Naked**, girl. What d'you think this is, the Moulin fuckin' Rouge?"

The girl's eyes, wide as all innocence, went to the cage again. Patrice couldn't believe she was even considering it. She'd said it knowing that it would scare the girl off. She must need the money badly.

"Would I be alone?"

The question was an odd one, but Patrice answered it. "Yeah. Well?"

The girl's eyes remained fixed on the cage. "I - I think I could do that," she whispered. "I'd definitely be alone, right? No one would get up there?"

Patrice was beginning to feel seriously guilty, and wished she'd gone with her first impulse and turned the girl down flat. She didn't think of herself as a bad person; she just didn't want her around. But the kid was obviously desperate, prepared to consider anything, no matter how much it terrified her. "Yeah, kid. Alone. This ain't a whorehouse."

"I'll do it."

"Fine. Start tonight." Patrice got up to leave. She couldn't stand those wide eyes any more. But a pang of conscience finally turned her around. "What's your name, girl?"

The girl came back to earth with a start. "Marie."

"Well, Marie. You can start in the cage tonight. Or - for half the rate we pay dancers - you can wash dishes. Your choice." After all, she reasoned, they did need another girl in the kitchen, too. Patrice was sick of having to muck in herself.

A look of complete relief flooded the girl's face. "Dishes," she said firmly, without hesitation. "Thank you so, so much! You're very kind."

Patrice scowled and turned to go. "Report to Eileen Pemberthy in the kitchens," she said over her shoulder. "You start tonight."

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Marie the kitchen girl. It sounded wonderful, to someone who'd once been Marie the freak, then Rogue the runaway, then Rogue the Gifted Youngster, and who had finally rebelled at being Rogue the X-Man. X-Woman. Whatever. Now she had 10 hours dishwashing and cleaning per day, Thursdays off, and a bed in the bunkhouse. A normal life. Just what she'd always wanted.

Marie sank into the menial job with a sigh of relief, and the first week washed over her with barely a ripple. The Princess Bar was hectic from the minute she got up until the moment her head touched the pillow again. It was the hub of local activity, 'local' being a relative term. Laughlin City was a tiny little town, but people came from miles around to be at the Princess. The food was good, the drink was plentiful, and there was always something happening. After a few days, Marie stopped finding it so overwhelming, and started to notice the bar itself. There was something familiar about it, but she just couldn't place it. Something about the atmosphere.

She was in the bar after her shift one evening when it came to her. She was sat alone at a table near the kitchens, with a view of the door, and she could see the bustle as people came and went. She was watching casually, but she began to see patterns in the behaviour of the people in the place. Some - most, in fact - were just out for a good time, but there were some, usually sat in the shadier corners, who seemed to be involved in intense discussions. There was a group under the right-hand staircase, for instance, who were having some kind of intense debate, and a pair in the nook by the main door who were carefully arranging the condiments from their meal to form a model of some kind. It suddenly struck her how much it reminded her of the rec room at Xavier's. The kids would be hanging around, relaxing, chatting, but in the corners there would be small clusters of activity, usually centred on Scott, Dani, or Jubes.

The place itself was amazing, run by Patrice independently of the absentee owner. It was huge, for a start - far vaster than necessary for such a one-horse town. Marie wondered at whoever had first built it. It looked like a cross between 'North to Alaska' and 'From Dusk 'Till Dawn'. If the slightly battered state of the decor was anything to go by, it had seen its fair share of bar-clearing brawls, too.

The main room was built like a barn. It was at several levels, confusing to the eyes, with a bar at either end for good measure. Three angular staircases led up to the hotel part of the bar, now used mainly by truckers and not the miners of earlier days. After Marie had been there a week she realised that the cage that had hung from the pinnacle of the pyramidal roof had been taken down and replaced by a robust wooden chandelier. Eileen explained that they did that when they couldn't get performers, and Marie wasn't sure whether she felt guilty or relieved. Off the main room were a maze of adjoining bars, passages, a dining hall, the kitchens, and a smoking parlour where Patrice spent most of her time - bent over the accounts amidst a haze of cigar smoke coming from the old-timers who'd made the room their kingdom. Marie found it almost impossible to get her head around the geography of the place, especially as the adjoining bars all tended to be dark and smoky, and the whole place was usually crowded. Stairs in the kitchen led down to the food storerooms, but she had no idea where they kept the alcohol. She was presuming good old-fashioned trapdoors behind the bars.

On her first day off, she looked around the town. She spent some time gazing at a beautiful hooded coat, long and thick and bottle green, in the window of the local store. It cost a hundred and fifty dollars, a daunting thought for a girl who had recently been starving for lack of funds. Still, it was very beautiful, and if she was going to be in Canada much longer, she'd need it. Maybe they'd give her a pay rise if she stuck around a little while?

Deep in thoughts of her future, she wandered along until she found she'd walked completely out of town. She was surrounded by forest, and she turned to look around her. The view was spectacular. The road climbed upwards away from her, as did the landscape around. Everything seemed to aim up towards the clear blue sky - even the trees pointed that way. She wandered off the road and into the forest, which closed quickly around her. The ground was fairly clear of undergrowth, shaded as it was by the close-growing pines, and it felt soft and spongy to walk on, the needles packing together to form a sort of carpet. She walked for a while, enjoying the peace and the sound of the wind through the branches.

She spent the day out there, returning as the sun slipped under the horizon. She felt slightly dazed as she got back into the evening bustle of the hotel. There was a strange undercurrent running through her. It felt like peace.

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	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

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After that, every chance she got, every free morning or afternoon, she went out walking in the forest that surrounded the little town. In the great outdoors, she practiced hard on her meditation. She'd spent a year under Xavier's tutelage, training her mind to control her unruly mutation. It hadn't been completely successful; she had to concentrate hard if she wanted any kind of control, and she could only turn it off for minutes at a time, but she had hopes that - with practice - it would get easier. She was hoping that at some point it would become second nature, and she would be able to switch her skin on and off at will.

At first, she hurried back to the bar at sunset, afraid of night in the forest, but after a while her curiosity grew too great. On her next full day off she bought herself a compass and a pen torch and stayed out after darkness fell, revelling in the sound and feel and smell of the night-time woods, and the absolute freedom of knowing that no one in the world knew where she was. She was away from civilisation, although near enough to her little section of it that the dangers were less. She watched a lynx stalk speedily past her, throwing her a short, mistrustful glance. Then she came across a rocky outcrop in a clearing that looked out over a lonely valley, where she watched the moon rise and the stars wheel overhead until she was dizzy. The magnificence and wildness of it all seemed to seep into her head, until she could barely remember her own name. She came back to the bar with twigs in her hair and a faraway look in her eyes. After that, she stayed out late every chance she got.

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She went into the bar early on her next day off to steal some nuts. Her control was getting better, and she was hoping, if she washed the salt off, she might be able to attract a small animal of some kind, perhaps a squirrel, to see if she could touch it without harming it. She peered over the bar, and grabbed one of the snack containers. As she turned back around, a movement at the corner of her eye startled her, and she spun around. There, calmly leaning his elbows on the bar and sipping a shot of whiskey, was a man who hadn't been there a second ago. The bottle sat beside him, and he looked for all the world as if he'd been there the whole time.

"What're you doing here?" she asked, more surprised than nervous: there was plenty of help within earshot; she just had to yell. The man glanced at her, then back to the shot in his hand. He didn't answer. "The bar ain't open yet." No response, not even a flicker of interest. "I could call security if you'd like?"

At that, he glanced at her again. "Don't."

She waited for an explanation, but none was forthcoming. "You want to gimme a reason?" With no good basis, she was unafraid of him. He was rough-looking, but sketchily handsome, the roughness lending honesty to his good looks. He hadn't spoken threateningly - more resignedly. He shrugged, and put down his glass, pouring another measure into it. "Isn't it a bit early for that?"

In reply, he tipped a long finger at the box in her hands. "Hungry?"

"What? Oh..." She put the nuts down, feeling wrong-footed. "I just wanted a handful. I was gonna try to catch a squirrel."

At that he looked her straight in the eye for the first time. His eyes were clear hazel, and slightly amused. "Really?"

"Yes." He wasn't the only one who could be brusque and uninformative. "Who are you?"

He downed the shot, not taking his eyes from her. "Logan. Who're you?"

"Marie. I work here."

"Me too."

"Oh." She felt a little embarrassed at having jumped to conclusions. "Sorry. I thought you were..."

"A whiskey thief? Stealing it shot by shot?" He looked amused. "Patrice knows I'm here," he explained briefly. "Why d'you wanna catch a squirrel?"

"Well, I don't really want to catch one. I just wanted to see if one would come near me." Lame, Marie told herself, but she couldn't tell him she wanted to see if her skin would drain it of life. That was a bit of a conversation-stopper.

"Fair enough. Is what do you do here? Bring in game for the kitchens?" He was teasing her.

"No," she replied crossly. "I wash dishes, if you must know. Today's my day off." It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what exactly he did there, but she was beginning to understand that one just didn't ask such questions in the Princess Bar - not if you wanted a straight answer. He didn't look like a bartender, he certainly didn't look like admin staff, and she knew he didn't work in the kitchens - maybe he was one of the suppliers? Somehow, that didn't seem to fit, either.

"You chase squirrels on your days off, huh?" He looked her up and down, and she bristled under the scrutiny. "You're very unusual, you know."

That touched a raw nerve in Marie. "I am not!"

He smiled openly, then. "Okay. My mistake. You're totally ordinary."

Disarmed by the unexpected charm of his crooked smile, she grinned back at him. Good heavens, I'm flirting with him, she realised in surprise. "Uh, I better go." She took a handful of the nuts from the container, and put it back behind the bar.

He watched her slip away, the smile still on his lips. When she got to the door to the kitchens, he called out: "Give the squirrels my regards." She laughed, and made her escape.

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	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

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She spent a fruitless but enjoyable day squirrel-hunting. By the time the sun set she had given up the chase, and she watched from her clearing, eating the rest of the nuts herself. She listened to the night for a while, watching as the various nocturnal species in the area emerged. It was getting very chilly, and she wrapped her arms about herself, burrowing into a dip in the rock.

"What the hell d'you think you're doing?"

The angry voice made her jump about a foot in the air, and she turned around quickly. It was Logan, the guy from the bar earlier. She could barely see him - he stood in the dark of the tree line. He stepped out, the moonlight illuminating him, and she revised her opinion of him rapidly. In the bar he'd been rough but unthreatening, but out here in the forest he looked downright scary. His hair was wild and pointy, and his face set in a scowl, his eyes shaded by drawn-together eyebrows. He must have moved like a cat: once again, she hadn't heard him approach. He looked like he belonged out there. "What - how did you find me?" She was unable to keep the squeak out of her voice. She reached for the glass water bottle beside her as surreptitiously as she could. It was her only weapon - beside her skin, of course.

"I know these woods. What the hell are you doing out here? You lost?" It gradually penetrated to her that he sounded at least a little concerned.

"No - no. I've got a compass. I like being out at night. Eileen knows I come out here," she added, hoping he'd take the hint.

"I ain't gonna hurt you, kid," he said, irritably. "They said you hadn't come back in yet. It's dangerous out here - don't you know that?"

"Yes!" she countered. "That's why I have the compass. I can look after myself, thank you very much."

"You shouldn't be allowed out, you know that?" He was getting more annoyed by her lack of gratitude. "What've you got for brains? Cotton wool?" He stepped nearer, and tapped her swiftly on the top of the head before she could move.

"I come out here every week! I was doing just fine until you turned up!" Marie spoke angrily, shaken up by the touch even though it was only to her hair and therefore harmless. He could just as easily have touched her skin, and her control was non-existent, given the frayed state of her nerves.

"Yeah? You stay out all night in that thing, then?" He pointed scornfully at her coat, of whose inadequacies she was suddenly hyper-aware. "You'd freeze to death."

"As a matter of fact, I was just thinking of going back," she said, sniffily. She pulled the thin coat tight about herself, pulled out her torch, checked the compass, and stalked off towards town. After a moment, she heard a huff, and he caught up with her.

They walked in silence until they got to the road. The wind through the trees soothed her ruffled spirits, and chilled her to the bone. "Um, thanks for coming looking for me," she said timidly, aware that she might have been a little rude. He grunted in reply. "But I was okay - really."

"Yeah," he said, briefly.

"You startled me," she offered in explanation. There was a long pause. "Um, you know those woods well?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." She switched off the torch, as the moonlight provided enough light on the open road to walk by. He was very difficult to talk to. "You walk so quietly. Are you - do you hunt a lot, or something?"

"Somethin' like that," he said quietly. She didn't understand the significant tone in his voice. It sounded sinister, and she decided to ignore it. She was cold, and a warm meal and bed were looking more and more appealing. "You come out here all the time?"

"Whenever I can," she said warily. He might be walking her home now, but that didn't mean she trusted him.

"You like it out here or somethin'?" He said it like it was improbable.

"Yes. Shouldn't I?"

"It's - you're just a kid. It's dangerous out here."

She was nettled again. "I can cope. I'm not as young or as dumb as you seem to think."

He shot her a sideways glance, assessing. "Maybe not," he conceded. "Why d'you like it?"

The question sounded sincere, as if he were genuinely puzzled as to why anyone would like such a wild place, so she gave it her consideration. "I don't know. It's peaceful. It's... it just appeals to me. I like knowing I'm away from people. Don't you like it?"

"Yeah. But I'm... unusual."

"You're not that unusual," she countered with a smile, and he looked sharply at her. "The woods around here are beautiful. What's not to like? Sure, they're dangerous, but so's crossing the street. You just have to take the right precautions, that's all." She looked out around her. The road at that point crossed the slope of the hill, and a screen of trees rose on the left side of the way, dropping away abruptly on their right to reveal the valley that held the small town. The moon hung heavily above. From inside the town it would be hard to see how completely they were surrounded, but out on the road it looked to her as though there was a sea of trees, with a tiny island of light in the middle. They paused simultaneously and stared out at the view. "It's worth it, to see this. Don't you think?"

Just visible against the night sky were the darker bulk of mountains, and Marie wondered just what it would be like to be up there, right at that moment, so near to the stars. "Yeah," said Logan, huskily, after a long pause. Marie came out of her trance with a violent shiver, making him look at her. "Let's get you back. You must be freezin'."

"I'll be okay," she said, hoping her teeth wouldn't chatter. Standing still on that high place had made her colder.

"Why the hell d'you wear such a useless coat?" The acerbity of his question was mitigated by the fact that, a second later, he slipped off his jacket and wrapped it around her. The warmth brought a glow to her cheeks, and they started walking again.

"Thank you. Won't you be cold?"

"Nah: Canadian."

She laughed at his answer. "I'm saving up for a new coat," she admitted, hugging his warm jacket around her. He looked like he had several thick shirts on, and they were near town, so she decided not to feel guilty. "I'm gonna get that, get some money together, and move on again."

"Move on?"

"Yeah. I'm travelling, or at least I was until I ran out of money. A rolling stone, that's me. Don't want any of that nasty moss."

"Where you headed?"

"I don't know. Just - away." She still had no definite plans, and the thought made her feel cold.

"You runnin' away from home or somethin'?"

"Just how old d'you think I am?" She didn't give him time to answer that one. "I'm not running away from home. I just decided I wanted to travel. I wanted to go places and do things before my life got mapped out in front of me."

"I think I can understand that," he said, with a wry smile.

"Yeah. Only it wasn't as easy as I thought at first. I ran out of money by the time I hit Alberta. I hitched as far as here, but by then I had to get a job or starve." Suddenly remembering his comment that she 'shouldn't be allowed out,' she hurried to explain. "I left in kind of a rush, before, but I'm a bit more prepared now."

"A rush, huh?"

"Yeah." She didn't want to explain further. Telling him about Xavier's institute was a little too specific, a little too dangerous. She didn't want anyone to know that she was a mutant. She couldn't afford to up sticks again, just yet. Come to think of it, maybe she should hold back her unruly tongue just a bit - she was getting awfully talkative with a man about whom she knew nothing more than a name. "So what about you?" He quirked an eyebrow at her. "What's your story? I've told you about me, now it's my turn to ask the questions."

"You haven't told me much," he countered.

"So tell me not much about yourself. All I know so far is your name - well, and that you know them thar woods pretty well."

He stared ahead of them. "Not much to tell."

"Yeah, right," she said, cynically. There was an air of mystery about Logan that practically screamed Dark Past, but he obviously wasn't up for sharing it with a girl he'd just met. Which was fair enough, when she thought about it. "C'mon. Just one little fact. That's all I ask."

"One little fact. Okay. I like whiskey."

Marie rolled her eyes. "Okay, I give up. Don't tell me anything."

"That was a fact," he protested. "Hey, I ain't real talkative, kid."

"No kidding." She grinned at him to show she meant it friendly-like. "But, see, it's not so hard - that was another fact."

"So now you tell me somethin' else. A fact about you."

Marie smiled to herself. "Okay. What?"

"I don't know." He thought for a moment. "How old are you?"

"That ain't a question you ask a lady," she said, her Mississippi accent coming out strongly. "But then again, I'm not a lady. I'm twenty-one."

"You don't look it."

"Thanks. I think. My turn. How old're you?"

"A lot older."

"You don't look it. Not 'a lot', anyhow. And you didn't answer the question."

"Pick somethin' else."

"Okay." He was obviously touchy about that one, and she wondered why. He didn't seem vain, for such a good-looking man; he dressed scruffily, obviously more for comfort than fashion, and his hair was wild and kind of unkempt - although that might possibly have been on purpose. And he didn't look like he was more than in his mid-thirties. She tried to come up with a more innocuous question. "What's your favourite movie?"

"I don't watch a lotta movies."

Marie sighed in exasperation. "Well, of the ones you have seen, which was your favourite?"

"Casablanca was okay."

"Casablanca? Really? I would've pegged you for more of a Clint Eastwood sort, something like that."

"I like old movies."

"Fair enough."

He shrugged, and Marie wondered if he was cold yet. "My turn. Did ya catch a squirrel?"

Marie laughed. "No. They weren't real keen to interact." She glanced at him, seeing his teeth glint. It was much darker than before, since the road had dipped down towards the town and back amongst the trees. With a start, she remembered that she didn't know this man - that he was a total stranger, and moreover one who had come out there to find her. Okay, they were walking back to town, and he'd shown no desire to kill or rape her, but she shouldn't feel so... what? To her surprise, she realised that what she was feeling was comfortable. Her brain told her she was crazy, and this sort of trusting behaviour would get her killed, but her instincts were telling her to relax, that he wasn't going to hurt her.

"What is it?" he asked, and it occurred to her that she'd been staring at him. She dropped her eyes to the road.

"Nothin'," she said, casually. "My turn. Why'd you come out here?"

"I told ya already."

"No, not really." Although she could hardly see him in the gloom, she stared levelly at him, waiting for a straight answer.

"They said you hadn't come back in. I thought maybe you'd gotten lost."

"Why were you asking about me?" Don't ask that! her brain protested loudly. But still, for no reason, she didn't feel afraid.

"I just was. I was concerned. Anyone goes walkin' hereabouts 'till late at night, I'd be concerned."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Anyone who wasn't local."

"You don't seem like the Good Samaritan type," she said. Shut up! her brain yelled.

"I ain't." His voice was irritable.

"But you still come out here, in the middle of the night-"

"It's only half nine," he interrupted.

"You come out here, concerned about me, despite the fact that it's only nine-thirty-"

"Kid, you talk too much."

"I'm just trying to figure you out."

"Yeah, well, don't." They'd reached the edge of the town now, and he stopped abruptly. "You'll be fine from here," he snapped, and turned away from the light, heading back out of town. Marie stopped, staring at him in astonishment. Was he going back out into the forest? At night? What the hell?

For a moment, she thought of calling after him, of following, but at last her sensible brain won out, and she decided it would be better to let him go. She'd obviously annoyed him with her questions, and now, as she headed for the bunkhouse, she wondered why she'd felt the need to pry. It wasn't like her to be so nosy. Something about him had made her want to know more, though. Something about his air of mystery - no, that wasn't it, or at least that wasn't it completely. He intrigued her. He'd come out to find her, and she really wanted to know why. Of course, it could simply be like he said; that he was worried because she hadn't come back in, but if he'd spoken to anyone in the kitchen then he'd have known she regularly stayed out past sunset with no harm done. Was he... was he **interested** in her? Well, he hadn't flirted with her, not noticeably, anyhow. He seemed to think she was merely a kid. And, yes, he was gorgeous, and yes, she'd been pleased to put him right about her age, she had to admit it.

"Don't go getting the hots for strange guys, Marie," she told herself under her breath. "No matter how nice they look when they smile." She stopped, and gazed at her reflection in the window of the shop with her coat. "You get that coat, you get some money, and you're outta here. Remember that. You're untouchable." She huffed, half laugh and half frustration. "Untouchable. Yeah. And don't you forget it."

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	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

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Another week of work went by. She didn't see Logan around the Princess bar. She didn't ask after him, either: the walk back through the woods seemed too improbable, too intimate, and she didn't want to have to explain why she was interested. She didn't really know the people at the bar that well, and she'd learned from previous experience to keep to herself as much as possible, to stay uninvolved, for her own safety. The more distance she could keep, both literally and figuratively, the better chance she had of staying hidden. Thursday rolled around, and she grabbed some supplies from the kitchen, and made her escape. The weather was getting warmer, and she revelled in the bright morning sunshine, as the road wound out of town and upward. She had a project in mind today - she was going to try to make a fire. She remembered the camping trip she'd been on with her school, when she was twelve, and the careful instructions they'd drilled into her. Never leave the fire unattended. Always make sure it was properly out when you left. Don't eat the mushrooms. She smiled to herself as she trekked through the woods to her favourite spot.

It was hard work, getting the fire going without matches, but rewarding when she finally got a tiny flame. She blew on it delicately, until it grew and she was able to feed it into the collection of twigs and leaves she'd gathered. She fed the fire carefully, dreamily, letting time trickle away. She'd borrowed a small saucepan, and she filled it with water from the bottle she'd brought with her, and rested it on a flattish stone as near to the fire as she could. When the water was steaming she threw in a couple of scoops of instant coffee, the rewarding aroma making up for the fact that it was merely instant. She pulled a mug from her pack, and poured some of the hot brew into it, breathing in the steam, and feeling very satisfied with herself.

"Got enough for another cup?"

She leapt a couple of inches in the air, barely avoiding spilling hot coffee down herself, and turned around. Sure enough, it was Logan. "Dammit!" she gasped. "Stop **doing** that!"

"Sorry," he said, unrepentantly, and smiled his crooked smile.

She sat back down, trembling. "Do me a favour? Try an' make some noise, the next time you're walking up behind me. Jesus Christ Almighty. Yeah, there's enough, if you don't mind sharing a mug."

"I don't mind." He sat down with his back to her rock.

Marie handed over the coffee cup, and watched as he swigged the hot liquid. Her mind was racing, partly trying to figure out why he was there, but mostly trying not to notice that he seemed to have got more good-looking since she'd last seen him. There was no reasonable explanation for it. He wasn't any tidier. His hair was still mad and pointy. He was as casual as could be, resting there, gazing out at the view. "Are you following me?" And she was asking him questions again, and she couldn't help it.

He turned his head to look at her. "Yeah." He held her gaze. "That okay?"

His eyes were steady and in the leaf-filtered sunlight they were a greener shade of hazel. "Yeah." And for some reason it was. Damn him for looking at her like that; he was making her feel totally irrational.

He went back to looking at the view. "Thought you might be out here again today."

"So you thought you'd drop by?"

"Somethin' like that," he agreed, and handed back the mug. She took a sip.

"You're not too busy, then? Working at the Princess?" She was fishing, wondering if he would tell her what it was he actually did. She had a suspicion it might be something on the shadier side, but what, she had no idea.

"Managed to get some time off."

There was a pause. "Oh. Good."

"So whaddya do all day, out here?"

Marie swirled the coffee round the mug, keeping her eyes on it and away from him. "Oh, this and that. Walk. Think. Climb trees. Watch the wildlife. Practice my - my meditation." She'd almost said her 'control', and cursed her slip-up. She couldn't afford to let anyone know she was a mutant.

"Meditation, huh?"

She looked at him, but he was regarding her calmly, without a trace of suspicion. "Yeah. It's - it's to relax. It's a good thing to practice. Good for the mind. Helps me keep my thoughts in order." Helps me control my killer skin.

"Hmm."

"What do you do?" She couldn't restrain her curiosity any longer.

"Do?"

"At the Princess."

"Oh, that. I'm - well, I guess you could say I'm a Jack-of-all-trades."

"Oh." And that was all she got out of him on the subject.

They spent the day wandering, talking generally about this and that. Both of them avoided talking about their pasts. Logan told her about some of the flora and fauna that they saw - he seemed to have a wide knowledge of the area, and Marie found it fascinating. What he seemed to know best were the practical applications of everything around them - which plants were useful and which were deadly, how to catch or avoid the creatures, how to move across the landscape and use it to best advantage - as if he'd spent a lot of time living out there. Perhaps he had.

In the afternoon he took her to a stream. "Wanna catch some fish?" he asked.

Marie looked at him. "No fishing rod," she said. "And no net."

"Don't need 'em. You ever been trout fishin'?"

"I've never been fishing."

"C'mere. Put your coat down on the edge here, and lie down." He took off his jacket so he was just wearing a thick red lumberjack shirt with a white T-shirt underneath. Marie followed suit, and they both lay down on the edge of the stream, heads towards the water. "See that? The fish there? It's a trout." As Marie watched, the stones and roots and mud at the bottom of the river resolved itself into a fish shape, like an optical illusion becoming clear. "You'll haveta take those off." He nodded at her gloves. Marie involuntarily clenched her fists closed. Logan gave her an odd look.

"You show me how it's done, first," she suggested, trying to keep her voice casual.

"Okay," he said, neutrally, and rolled up his sleeve as far as it would go. He reached out, and slipped his hand as slowly as possible beneath the water. Remarkably, the fish lay still, and Logan moved slowly but surely towards it. He gently brushed his fingertips along the creature's belly. Magically, the fish stayed still in his hands. Marie watched in fascination, certain that the creature would move and swim swiftly away. "This is called trout ticklin'," he whispered softly, continuing to lightly stroke the fish, like it was a cat, whilst he murmured quietly to her. "It puts the trout into kind of a trance, until it's so relaxed you can just grab it up outta the water. You have to be real careful not to move too suddenly, though, and not to let the fish catch on to what you're up to."

"How do you know when the fish is relaxed enough to catch?" whispered Marie.

"You don't. It comes with practice. It ain't easy."

Marie, watching the gentle stroking, the light glimmering in the water, began to empathise with the trout: she was feeling relaxed, herself. She sought for her control, and found it with surprising ease. She watched for a while more, and then slipped off her glove. "Can I try?" she asked.

"Sure. Put your hand in the water. Real slow." He gradually eased his hand away from the fish, resting it just on the surface of the water. The fish dozed contentedly. She slid her hand sideways through the water, keeping her fingers pressed together and straight to minimise the disturbance. She checked her control - it still seemed good. Touch. She was proud that her hand never trembled in the slightest, through a great effort of will. She was about to touch a living creature - and if she made a mistake she'd get a big dose of fish-thoughts. She wondered dizzily what that would feel like, and whether she might grow gills. "Careful," he breathed, close to her ear. Marie slowed her breathing until she was as relaxed as she was going to get. Her fingertips brushed the creature. Nothing happened. The fish stayed, and so did her control. She didn't allow herself to think about it any more, knowing that if she did, she would lose it, she would kill this trusting creature in seconds. She concentrated on keeping her touch light, moving in tune with the water and the smooth scales of the fish beneath her fingers. "That's good. Keep it light, like that," Logan whispered, and she felt his breath brush her cheek, and realised how close he was. She set that aside from her thoughts, also. And then she nearly lost it completely: his finger was touching her arm.

His finger. Was touching. Her arm.

Her bare arm.

"You can press a little harder," he murmured. Marie felt a wave of heat come and go through her body, but her fingers stayed steady. "Good girl." She managed to cling desperately to her control. She didn't think he'd even realised that he was running the tip of his index finger gently up and down her skin, in time with her strokes. Then he pressed more firmly, and she bit her lip painfully hard. "You could do it now. Just reach your hand around... that's right, like that... get your hand right underneath... and when you're ready, just scoop him up and throw him outta the water." Logan rolled out of the way carefully, to give her room. In a sudden movement, Marie grabbed - and threw - and the fish sailed flapping out of the water, and landed in the leaves, where it flailed angrily. Logan picked it up and killed it efficiently with a rock. "Well done," he grinned at her. Marie collapsed back on the bank and let her power flood back, staring at Logan and the fish, awed and frightened and elated by what had just transpired.

She had touched. She had touched, and no one was dead. Well, the fish was dead, actually, but she hadn't killed it. She hadn't even hurt it. "I touched the fish," she said, weakly, unable to stop herself.

"Yeah. You did real good. Beginners usually don't catch anything."

"I touched it," she reiterated, and then tried to master herself. She couldn't babble at him like this. She'd end up letting him know that she was a mutant if she wasn't careful. I touched **you**, she said silently to him. Oh god. She'd touched. "It's wonderful," she mumbled. "It's fantastic."

"Yeah, well, all we need now is another one or two, and we'll have a good dinner," he said. Marie stared at him in disbelief. Her nerves were shaken raw, and she had no control whatsoever. She couldn't possibly... "I'll get 'em, shall I?" he said, laughing.

"You wanna? 'Cause, y'know, be my guest."

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_No joking, trout tickling is illegal - in Britain, anyhow, I don't know about other countries, but chances are. It's to do with poaching laws. So, y'know, don't._


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five_

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They roasted the fish over another fire, in the little clearing overlooking the valley. Marie seated herself on the opposite side of the fire so that she could take her gloves off without worrying about accidental touches. The sun set in a blaze of orange and purple. Marie leaned back against her now-familiar rock with a feeling of warmth inside. It wasn't just the fire - it was the companionship. She was used to being on her own, and the sharing of food had become something unfamiliar, a strange luxury. She hadn't felt like this since... she tried to remember. Not at the Princess, and never out on the road, certainly. Not really at Xavier's, either, although she had been welcomed as a mutant with a valuable gift. She hadn't felt like this since she'd been at home, before the mutation.

She watched Logan through half-closed eyes. He was staring distantly into the fire. He was no longer the attractive mystery man she'd first met in the Princess; nor was he the dangerous-looking wild man who'd scared her in the woods that night. Of course, he was still wild, dangerous-looking, mysterious, and very, very attractive... but she wasn't scared. He still looked as though he belonged out there, but he seemed dangerous in the same way that the weather was dangerous, or a fast river, or the lynx she'd briefly seen. Not cruel or evil - but not entirely safe, either.

When she reached that point of reasoning, she realised she was thinking of him as unsafe and non-scary at the same time. She mentally shook herself. Either he was a totally contradictory character, or she was feeling totally contradictory things. She tried to look at him dispassionately. Dark eyes, dark hair that caught the firelight, a long, straight nose, fine lips - more hair on his face than she usually liked. Broad-shouldered and muscular, without being beefy - usually she didn't go for guys like that, but he made it seem reassuringly... well, **manly**, for want of a better word. To be held by him must be - she cut that thought off abruptly when he looked sharply at her, nostrils flared, as though he were reading her mind. She was glad that the twilight hid her blush. Untouchable, she reminded herself once more. She was untouchable.

Except that today, she had touched. Today, **he** had touched her. And for the life of her, she couldn't stop thinking about it, about the feather-light pressure on her arm, the soft caress of his fingertips. Involuntarily, she put her hand on the place on her arm that he had touched, and her breath deepened and the blood heated in her veins.

Logan's eyes were unreadable in the flickering firelight. "Still hungry?" he asked, gesturing to the remains of their supper. Drawn magnetically, Marie reached out to take some more. Her gaze flicked to his mouth, and she unconsciously wet her lips. What would it be like to be kissed? What would it be like to kiss him?

A movement caught her eye, and she realised that he was reaching for her bare hand. She flinched back violently, suddenly aware of where she'd been going, and a spike of fear went through her, killing her arousal instantly.

Logan froze, and stared at her without moving for the space of a heartbeat. Then he drew back and turned away, poking at the fire angrily.

"Logan, I-" she paused, uncertain what to say.

"We should be gettin' back," he said, gruffly. He stood up and stomped out the fire, emptying the pan of water across the embers. Marie sat in the sudden cold darkness, completely embarrassed. What the hell had she been thinking? And what the hell must he be thinking, now? She'd stared at him like he was a cool stream in the middle of a desert, and then she'd leapt back as though she'd realised he was poison. Only it was she who was poisonous. He didn't know that though, and the feeling of warmth, of companionship, was gone.

She clambered to her feet and dusted herself off, pulling on her gloves and pulling her jacket about herself, whilst Logan scattered the remains of the fire and their supper. Quickly, she gathered her things - the pan and the water bottle - and stowed them in her bag. The stars were only just beginning to rise as they set out for town again.

They walked back in silence. Marie was racking her brains to think of some way to explain her behaviour without letting him know she was a mutant. She didn't want him to think she was scared of him, or that she was teasing him. No decent explanation sprang to mind, however. She decided that perhaps she was better off not explaining herself, anyhow: he had looked all too willing to kiss her, at that moment, and that was just impossible. She couldn't get involved with him. Or anyone, for that matter. She had to keep her distance, for everyone's safety. Better for him that he think the worse of her, and so in future he wouldn't want to kiss her.

It was a melancholy thought.

Again, when they got to the edge of town, he stopped. "See ya around," he said, and turned to go. This time, however, she did stop him. She couldn't help herself - she didn't want him to leave like that.

"Logan, wait." He paused, and looked back. "You gonna be around next Thursday? I was going to - I mean..." She huffed in frustration at her inability to get a complete sentence out. "I wouldn't mind the company, if you're still up for it?"

Logan looked at her consideringly for a long moment. Then he gave his crooked grin. "See ya then," he said briefly, and departed.

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	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six_

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"You're awfully chipper today, chicky. Got a date or something?"

Marie realised that she was singing as she did the dishes. She tried to get herself under control. "I wish," she said. "I just woke up on the right side of the bed, I guess."

Eileen gave her a sceptical look, from across the huge sink. "Yah, okay. So - do anything yesterday?" She was openly prying, but in a good-natured way.

"Went for a walk - the usual. The woods round here are just so gorgeous."

"Yah, well, you take care, you know? It's not safe out there."

"I know. I take a compass."

"It's not that. There's something out there - hasn't anyone told you the stories?"

"Stories?"

"Chicky, you have to listen. Somewhere out there in the woods there's some kind of monster. The Claw Monster."

Marie laughed. "The **Claw Monster**? You're kidding me!"

Eileen shook her head seriously. "I'm not. The rumours have been going around for years. Once or twice they've even found..." her voice dropped impressively, "...a **body**, torn to ribbons by six razor-sharp claws."

"Really? Have you ever seen it?"

"I haven't seen it, no - but I was there the day Peter Augur came running into town, shaking and crying like a baby, and swearing on his mother's grave that the Claw Monster had nearly up and killed him. He'd been hunting deer up outside the north end of town, when he stopped to take a leak - and then the deer he'd been hunting all day just fled past him, and seconds behind it was the Claw Monster itself! The monster stopped when it saw Peter, and crouched down in the bushes, growling and snarling like a mad thing. Peter ran like the Devil was after him, all the way back to town - didn't even stop to pick up his gun! He said it was huge, and man-shaped, kinda, but with those huge claws, half a meter long or more, gleaming like the moon - three for each hand. He didn't stick around to get any more of a look, and he never knew what good grace led the creature to leave him be." Marie couldn't help but smile at the horror story the woman had told. "It's true!" she insisted. "And the next day, we found it."

"The body?"

"The gun. Peter's gun. Right in the middle of the bar out there. Sliced clean in half. If you don't believe me, you can go see it for yourself. The pieces are up over the bar down by the cloakroom."

"I'll go have a look later," Marie promised.

"Yah, you do that. Maybe it'll make you see sense. Don't go too far from town, chicky. It's not safe out there."

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Her curiosity got the better of her, and after closing time that evening, after all the friends and conspirators and drinkers and bar staff had finally left, and the last glass was clean, she walked through the low-lit bar and the scent of stale tobacco, to the furthest, dimmest corner - the bar nearest the cloakroom. It was the section reserved for the serious drinkers - those in pain, in trouble, losers in love or in life, whose only recourse was the bottom of a bottle. The bartender there was a solitary man who never spoke to anyone, except to tell them when it was time to go home.

She stared up at the two pieces of gun, sheared clean in half by some unknown blade. In this dim corner of the Princess, suddenly Eileen's story didn't seem so improbable. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she suddenly felt like she was not alone, that someone or something was watching her.

And then she realised: only one person moved that silently. Perversely, she was comforted.

"How d'you think it really happened?" she asked, quietly. She turned, and saw Logan seated at one of the tables, as she'd expected, bottle of whiskey and shot glass in hand.

"The Claw Monster did it," he said. His face was shadowed by a scruffy cowboy hat, and she couldn't see his expression - whether he was laughing at her or not.

"Do you really believe that?"

"Don't you?"

"I don't know..." She pulled up a chair, and he slid a second shot glass over to her. She sipped the whiskey he'd proffered. "It don't seem likely. Why would some mad, feral woods creature slice a gun half, and then take it into the middle of a bar and leave it there? And wouldn't someone have spotted it?"

"Someone playing a trick on Pete, then?" He was still unreadable.

"Maybe. But then, what Eileen said Peter said he saw... I don't know. It's all hearsay and Chinese Whispers. Things get exaggerated. I know; I come from a little town like this. It's just the same there, 'cept hotter. Maybe it was a big cat or something that scared him."

"Why dismiss the Claw Monster so easily? You see stranger stuff on the news nowadays."

Marie pondered this. "You mean, you think the Claw Monster might be a mutant?"

"Could be."

"But then why is it living out in the woods?"

Logan shrugged. "It's a monster. It's got huge claws. Maybe it just ain't real comfortable in polite society."

Marie folded her hands, uncomfortably aware of her gloves. "Poor thing," she said softly.

"It's a monster, Marie. A killer."

"How do you know?"

"I've seen the bodies."

He said it so matter-of-factly that it took a moment for her to process what he'd said. "Bodies? You mean - there really is a Claw Monster out there?"

"He exists, yeah."

"Oh, my god!" Marie sat back and sipped her whiskey in amazement. "Bodies? So he really has killed people, then?"

"Two from this town."

"When?"

"One was a long time ago - 'bout twenty years back. That's when people first realised he was out there. A hunter got killed. Then about six years ago, the local police captain was killed. Torn to shreds. They found him scattered outside of town." Marie put her hand to her mouth. "That one was hushed up, no real investigation done into it, 'cause of what they found out afterwards: he'd been raping his own daughter for years. Bastard had it coming."

"Oh, god." Marie stared into the middle distance, trying to work out how she felt about that. "D'you suppose the Claw Monster knew? About what the police captain had been doing, I mean?"

Logan looked at her inscrutably. "How could he have known?"

"I don't know." She stared at her hands again, encased in their gloves. "God. I wonder if he is a mutant, then? I suppose he probably must be. He might have other powers that meant he knew what the guy was doing."

"Why're you tryin' so hard to find excuses for him?"

She looked up sharply at Logan, suddenly aware that her sympathy for the unknown outcast might be making her vulnerable to suspicion. "I - I don't know. Maybe because he hasn't killed anyone for six years, and then it was someone who was molesting his own child. The hunter - well, we just don't know. I think he deserves the benefit of the doubt, at least. Maybe he's not evil, like they say. Maybe he's just... just misunderstood. It can't be nice, living outside of society like that, being all on your own..."

"You're on your own. You sure you ain't just projectin' your feelings onto him?"

Marie laughed humourlessly. "Maybe. But, having experience, I know that bein' lonely ain't that fun. And I chose to live like this, but the poor Monster..."

"Hmm." Logan downed his shot.

"Aren't you scared of him?" It suddenly occurred to Marie that Logan was being very equivocal about his take on the Claw Monster. "You came out there to find me that night - was it because you thought he might try something - that he might try to kill me?"

"Nah. I think you've got somethin' right about him: he doesn't go around on killing sprees. We get plenty of hikers passing through, and none of 'em ever come to any harm." He set his glass down. "But you ain't going out there any more, right?" It was a question, not a statement, but he sounded like he was sure of her answer.

Marie stared into her glass. Then she poured them both another shot. "I'm not scared. I'm getting to love those woods. The Claw Monster... I don't think he'll hurt me. I don't know why. I just don't. He hasn't yet. Anyhow, he's not going to stop me going out there. He's never stopped you, has he?"

Logan looked steadily at her. "Nope. I'm not scared of him. I can take care of myself. I'll make sure he never hurts you."

She looked up at him through her lashes. "You promise?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I promise."

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She dreamed that night that Logan was the Claw Monster, feral and terrifying, and that he was chasing her through the forest, his huge, white bone claws dripping with blood. Then she tripped and fell, and Logan the Claw Monster was upon her, pinning her to the ground with his body, his claws sinking deep into the earth to either side of her so that she was imprisoned. "I won't hurt you," he whispered, and leaned down to bite her neck. She woke up with a start, a potent combination of fear and arousal flooding her body.

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	7. Chapter 7

Thank you, before I start this one, to all the people who've given me feedback so far - it's been really encouraging to hear how people are enjoying this! And now on with the show... it's all about to go pear-shaped...

_Chapter Seven_

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The next week flew by. When she added up the money that she had in the hotel safe, she realised that she had almost enough to buy her coat already. After that, it was just a matter of gathering as much more as she wanted, and then she could leave.

The prospect wasn't as inviting as it once had been. Marie started to wonder whether she could make enough to buy a second-hand car, and started to look out for vehicles that she might be able to afford. It would mean she'd have to stay for a while longer, but it would enable her to be more independent when she did leave. Perfectly reasonable - sensible - wise, even... nothing at all to do with Logan. Because that wouldn't be sensible. That would be dumb. Because then they might get into a situation where he might try to touch her again, and she might lose control and put him into a coma. And that would be all kinds of bad.

Of course, there was the possibility that, with practice, she would be able to touch someone - Logan, just for instance - for a greater length of time. All the time she wasn't working, she practiced her control. She was up to fifteen minutes 'off', but the problem was retaining her inner calm. Ironically, non-calming situations were when she would most likely need to have control over her power. She began to practice retaining control whilst she was at work, trying to keep it going when she was in the middle of the evening rush. Determination gave her an edge, and she began to make rapid progress. She also realised that it was marking her as different, when Eileen remarked about her unflustered, distant demeanour in the most hectic of circumstances. She shrugged it off, but privately began to worry that she couldn't keep up her pretence of normalcy much longer. All the more reason to practice her control, make some money, and get the hell out of Dodge. She sure would miss those woods, though.

Wednesday was generally a quiet day, and her shift didn't start until later, so she took herself for a walk. As usual, she found herself heading out of town. As she walked along the road, a familiar shadow appeared beside her. "You haven't attached some sort of tracer device to me or something, have you?" she asked.

Logan came level with her, and she could see he was grinning slightly. "Nah. Just observant."

"Rrrright." Stalking isn't cute, she reminded herself. Stalking is weird and sinister. She sneaked a glance sideways at him, as he put his face to the wind and breathed the fresh air appreciatively. She just couldn't find it within herself to object.

They walked along the road that headed out of town again, in companionable silence, listening to the birds and the wind. All of a sudden, Logan stopped, and looked around, his whole body expressing alertness.

"What is it?" asked Marie. He gestured for her to remain quiet. He raised his head, as if listening hard, and sniffed at the air. Before she had time to ask about this, a huge hand swept out from nowhere, and grabbed her around the waist. In shock, she didn't struggle for a moment, but then the reflexes the X-Men had tried to instil in her kicked in, and she lashed out, trying to escape the grip of the huge man who was carrying her off. There was a roar, and the man staggered, allowing her to wriggle free. She scrambled away, and turned back to see what had happened, and suddenly felt like her heart was trying to climb out of her body by way of her mouth. Logan was struggling with the man... man? Mutant, certainly: the stranger was surely more than 7-foot tall, a mass of hair and muscle, looking like a nightmare caveman. He hurled Logan bodily across the road, slamming him into a tree. "No!" she yelled, and threw herself forwards, jumping on the man's back. "Leave him alone!" The mutant tried to throw her off, but she was quicker than she ever thought possible. She grasped his face above his sideburns, and let her power flood through her, sucking hungrily at his life force.

The man roared, and staggered, falling to his knees, but she didn't let go. She could feel his power flooding into her, bringing with it an exhilarating rush of bloodlust. She snarled in fury, gripping tighter. She would kill him. He had attacked her mate. He was going to die.

Her nails dug into his skin, and he collapsed forwards, trapping her hands beneath his head, but she wouldn't have let go anyhow. She clung on fiercely, as his roars of defiance petered out, and his struggles stilled. Every last thought, every drop of his powers - she drank them all in triumphantly. When he was finally dead, she sat back and let loose an exultant roar of her own. Her enemy was dead. The echo resounded through the mountains.

She looked down proudly, and saw Logan stumble to his feet. He stared at her in shock, and her heart plummeted. Her mind tumbled with thoughts not her own. What the hell had she done? Oh, god - she'd killed someone. Good. Her enemy was dead. Was it good? Everything was clearer, brighter; she could taste the smell of the pine trees, a distant lynx, the coming summer, Logan's shock, tainted with fear. Words deserted her. She snarled and backed away, discarding the corpse. Logan stepped towards her, and she turned and fled into the welcoming darkness of the trees.

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	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter Eight_

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She came to herself a long time later, laying on her stomach and lapping from a stream. She looked down, and wondered who the tiny creature was who stared back from the bottom of the pool. Then her perspective lurched, and she realised - it was her reflection. It looked strange to her, as though she hadn't seen it in years.

"Oh, god," she whispered, her voice hoarse. She curled away, unable to face herself any longer. "Oh, god," she said again, and wrapped her arms around her head. She lay still, letting her own thoughts filter back. The creature - Sabretooth was his name, she now knew - had taken over for a while, the enhanced senses of his power overwhelming her, but whilst her own mind managed to push him back, his powers didn't fade. She'd never touched anyone for that long before. She'd killed him. Strangely, she didn't feel any remorse about that: his presence in her mind didn't seem to resent it. He felt/thought that he would have killed her with as little regret. It was a death struggle, his life or hers, simple and clear.

On the other hand, she wasn't celebrating. His instincts told her that celebrating was for the weak, and that she should dismiss this moment and move on, keep alert, keep waiting for the next fight, the next danger. She tried again to push him to the back of her mind, but the confusion of her own thoughts was making it harder. Knowing now what she did, having assimilated his personality, she knew that she'd had to kill him, but she also remembered the smell of shock and sharp fear coming from Logan. Him, she had alienated forever - she had shown him that she was a mutant in the worst possible way. She must never see him again, for her own safety and sanity. She couldn't bear to see the look of disgust that would surely be in his eyes when he looked at her now.

All her instincts - boosted by Sabretooth's - screamed against the loss. She belonged with him, her body was shouting it, but her grieving mind overruled it. She might want that, might feel it in every bone, every fibre, every nerve, but he sure as hell wouldn't - not now. He'd fear her; hate her probably, now he'd seen what she could do. It didn't matter that she'd thrown herself into the fight originally to protect Logan - she was an outcast. Dangerous. Deadly. Untouchable. She'd killed Sabretooth right in front of him. She was a freak, a vampire, an evil parasite. He knew what she was, now - had seen it with his own eyes, seen the worst part of her: the part that revelled in the power she stole.

A choked sob escaped her, and the sound was strange to her newly-enhanced ears. It was too loud, and she fought to repress her tears. She had to decide what to do now. She couldn't allow herself to be weak, to cry, until she was safe.

She didn't dare go back to the Princess - even if she didn't see Logan, she couldn't risk going into town in the state she was in - her mind was too overwhelmed by new sensations; she couldn't trust herself to keep the new personality under wraps. She would surely betray herself, even if Logan didn't. She knew that, with Sabretooth's memories and powers, she could survive out in the wild quite well, for now. She shouldn't start to rely on his healing ability, though. She could feel the life and health coursing through her veins right now, making her feel invulnerable, but she had no idea how long it would stay with her - she had never drained anyone to death before.

The thought made her shudder, and she climbed to her feet. She couldn't stay here - it was too exposed, too close to town. She sniffed the wind and set off in the direction of the lower mountain slopes, all without her conscious mind being involved. She allowed her instinct to lead her, knowing the wild man in her mind had far greater experience than her in - well, in almost everything. Cautiously, she sifted through some of his memories, and a succession of violent images and emotions ripped through her. She pushed back quickly, closing that part of her mind off before it engulfed her completely. His thoughts were too strong, too vivid. As she walked, she calmed herself, trying to regain some control. It was easier than she expected. Sabretooth was strong and vibrantly alive in her mind, his powers were a sensory overload, but cerebrally he was no match for her trained and disciplined mind. That gave her some satisfaction: at least she wasn't totally incapable of fighting him.

Incredulously, she picked through his memories of why he wanted her. Some lunatic called Magneto wanted her to power his machine, in his amazing plan to turn humans into mutants. It sounded like bullshit, but Sabretooth seemed to believe him. Well, he wouldn't be able to find her out here, particularly not now his best tracker was dead.

She moved tirelessly through the forest, unconscious of walking as silently as Logan - the catlike grace imparted to her through kinetic memory. She cleared her mind, listening to the land around her with her superior senses. Everything seemed so much clearer. She dropped into a gentle lope without realising it, and breathed the fresh air appreciatively. This was where she belonged, now - out here in the wild. If she was going to be an outcast, at least she could live out here, where life was straightforward. She couldn't go back to the humans now, she knew that. They were dangerous, bad, evil, complicated - she would have to make some kind of life for herself out in the wilds. Her logical brain calculated the odds of staying away from society - luckily for her, she was in Canada, and a particularly wild stretch of it at that. There was nothing but the town for miles, and, if she headed through the mountains for a while, even that small spark of civilisation would be decently distant.

A different scent caught her attention, and she paused. Deer. Her mouth watered. Food. She bared her teeth. Kill.

She suddenly realised what she was doing, and shook her head, staring at hands that had curled themselves into claws. God. Sabretooth was sneaky. He took the advantage every time she was distracted. She definitely couldn't go back to town like this. And she did want to go back, eventually - not necessarily to the Princess, or to Laughlin City, but to civilisation in general. Sabretooth might love it out here, and she had to admit that she did, too, especially now that she had his powers and memories to help her survive, but she couldn't live out here. She needed to talk to people; she got lonely on her own. She could survive out here until Magneto stopped looking for her, but it would be no kind of a life for her. Unless she could socialise with the Claw Monster.

The thought stopped her in her mental tracks. The Claw Monster. Good god. Was that how she would end up - a local myth, the feral creature that killed with a touch? Was there really a mutant out here somewhere? Well, maybe this was her chance to find out.

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	9. Chapter 9

_I'm feeling generous today - and as I won't be able to update over the weekend, I'm posting three chapters. Anyhow, Ten is a better place to leave it._

_Chapter Nine_

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She stopped when she reached another stream, a couple of hours later. She wasn't tired, but the Marie part of her brain had the casting vote, and it declared that she damn well should be. She clambered down the steep slope, took off her shoes and socks, and paddled into the water, letting it cool her feet. She splashed her heated limbs, and washed her face, then headed upstream to find a good place from which to drink. A miniature waterfall provided this, and the icy water revived her mind. Her stomach growled hungrily, protesting the fact that she hadn't eaten all day, but she ignored it for the moment - she would find food when she was far enough away to feel safe. Still, somehow, she didn't - she felt as though someone else was near. Sabretooth's instincts were setting her teeth on edge about this, but she tamped them down fiercely. It was just nerves and paranoia. No one could be close - only Logan knew about what had happened, and she had fled from him faster than any human could follow, no matter how well they knew the forest. A pang of longing swept through her, leaving her weak, but she repressed that, too. It was too late for regrets. She put her face under the waterfall, and when a hand grabbed her shoulder she jumped, banging her head sharply on the rocks, and shrieked, breathing in water. She tried to struggle away, but two arms wrapped themselves around her, holding her in an iron embrace.

"Marie, wait!" hissed a voice in her ear, and she stopped struggling in sheer amazement.

"Logan?" she asked incredulously.

"You were expecting someone else?" he asked, sarcastically. He let her go, and she stumbled away from him, catching her toe on a rock and sitting down unceremoniously on the bank.

He was standing in the middle of the stream, up to his knees in water, jeans sodden, shirt open and slightly torn, hair as wild and pointy as she'd ever seen it. He had a deep frown on his face. He looked absolutely magnificent - like some sort of angry woodland god, she thought, still dazed from the knock on her head. Her eyes kept dropping to his bared chest, and she had to drag them forcibly up to meet his gaze. "How - how did you find me?" she stammered, suddenly nervous.

"I followed your trail," he growled. "Why'd you run off like that?"

"I - because - um..." she held out her hands, in their torn and muddy gloves. She didn't understand the question. "Isn't it obvious?" He didn't smell afraid any more - angry, yes, but also something else. She wondered if her new senses were playing up already. He smelled... aroused? He stepped forwards, and she flinched back, knowing that it was impossible to run from him if he had found her this easily already.

"You're a mutant?" The growl was softer this time, gentler.

She nodded. She might as well tell him. What had she got to lose? "It's my skin. Anyone I touch with bare skin, I absorb their energy, their life force. With mutants I also absorb their powers. That guy I touched was a mutant. He would have killed you - and me, eventually." She sharply repressed Sabretooth's mental whisper of what he'd wanted to do first, if she survived Magneto's plans.

"He wouldn'ta killed me, Marie." He dropped his head, and stared at his hands, clenching them into fists. She gasped as two long sets of metal claws sprang from his knuckles. He held them out for her to see. They glittered lethally in the dappled sunlight, three for each hand. "I'm unkillable." He spoke so quietly that she would barely have heard him, were it not for her enhanced hearing. She stood up, and stepped back into the stream, drawn towards him and totally unable to stop herself. She reached out with a trembling finger, and touched one of the claws. Logan held perfectly still, allowing her to run her finger along the dull top edge of the claw. The underside looked razor sharp, and they curved around like the talons of some giant animal.

"You're a mutant, too?" she whispered, gazing at the claws. He nodded, head still bowed. It all clicked into place in her head. "The - the Claw Monster...?" He nodded again. "Oh, Logan." A sudden surge of pity - no, more than that: a surge of empathy - warmed her veins, and she wanted to put her arms around him and hold him close. She didn't quite dare to do that, but she did put out a hand to brush a lock of his hair back gently. His claws slid back into his arms, and she watched in fascination as the skin of his knuckles healed seamlessly. Her right hand hovered over his, aching to touch him.

"It's more than just the claws," he said, and it sounded like a confession. He rested his left hand tentatively on her hip and looked down into her eyes. "I heal. From anything. Cuts, burns, frostbite, poison, broken bones, gunshot wounds - you name it." Marie wondered how he knew all that, and an idea of what he might have been through made her heart ache for him. Sabretooth growled in her head, snarling his superiority, raging that he could have taken this runt down.

"What are the odds?" she asked, rhetorically. Logan looked questioningly at her. "Sabretooth - the guy who attacked us - he was a superhealer, too." She tapped her head. "When I absorb people, I get their memories, too. He thinks he could've killed you. He's got quite an ego," she said, wryly.

"And you absorbed him? So - what? You have his powers now?"

Marie nodded. "Usually they only last for a little while. But I've never - I've never killed anyone like that, before." She shivered, and his hand tightened on her waist. "I don't know what will happen to me now."

"But you've still got them now? You can heal? That's a good thing, Marie." He sounded and smelled pleased. "You're such a little thing."

"I'm not delicate," she protested, but a smile lightened her words.

"You are to me," he said softly.

There was a thoughtful pause. "I've got his senses, too," she told him. "His mutation included heightened smell and hearing, and sight to an extent."

Logan nodded. "It's called a feral mutation. That's what I am. I can sense things real good, too. That's how I tracked you."

"Oh." She dropped her eyes, but that meant she was staring at his chest again. If he had senses like Sabretooth's, she realised, he would probably hear her heart rate picking up, sense the effect that his closeness was having on her. She had to back away a little. This was too much, too soon. The silence stretched out between them. She really should back away. Soon. Now. Yes. Back away.

"You said you absorb anyone you touch with bare skin," he questioned in a low voice, and she dragged her eyes away from his bare chest. But the heated, hungry look in his eyes wasn't any better for helping her keep some distance. "I'm sure I remember touching you once." His eyes flickered to her lips and back.

"I have some control." Her voice was husky. "I can switch it off for a while. Fifteen minutes or so, at the most."

"Fifteen minutes?" His hand at her waist drew her closer to him.

"Mmm-hmm."

Ever so slowly, he was dipping his head down towards hers, his gaze holding hers all the way. "Have you got control of it at the moment?"

Marie could feel a blush rising up her entire body. All the way down to her legs and feet, still immersed in cold water, she felt warm. He was so close now; she could feel his breath on the sensitive skin of her lips. But she could also feel that calm inner grip on her powers. "Yes," she murmured.

"Good."

His kiss was tentative at first, brushing her lips with torturous lightness. "Oh..." she sighed blissfully against his mouth, and her eyes drifted closed. He groaned, and pulled her tightly into his arms, savagely kissing her, and she swayed dizzily against him, pressing herself into his arms as closely as she could. She wound her arms around his shoulders, feeling the heat they were creating build between them, her shirt the only barrier between her and that glorious chest.

"Marie..." he breathed, and she stepped backwards, pulling him with her.

"My feet are freezing," she muttered against his lips. She found the bank by falling over it, and he fell willingly with her, covering her face with feverish kisses. She moaned against his mouth as he pressed his body against hers just enough to frustrate and to put a keen edge of desperation to their kisses. "Logan," she panted, pulling her feet out of the water and wrapping her legs around him. Oh, she wanted this - she wanted him so badly. He leaned on one elbow above her, and ran his hand down her arms, pulling off her gloves, one after the other. His hand roved restlessly back up her arm, down her torso and under her shirt, and he feathered kisses down her chin and neck. Her hands wandered under his shirt and across his back and sides, revelling in the sensation of skin-to-skin contact. She threw her head back, breathless. It was so much to take in - so overwhelming - she hadn't felt touch in so long... "Wait - wait," she gasped, pulling her hands away from his body, and he paused - instantly understanding - and lifted his hand from her skin. She tried to catch her breath, and opened her eyes to look at him hovering over her, a canopy of green dancing overhead, concern in his eyes. "It's too much - too good," she tried to explain. "I have to keep my control. I don't want to hurt you." She'd been moments away from losing it completely, awash in sensation.

He took his hand out from underneath her top, and gently smoothed the material down, touching but not touching. "I can deal with that," he said. "I'll try to take it slower. God, Marie, but you don't make it easy." He stroked her hair, fanning it out over the grass. "You're so beautiful."

She stared at him, lying against her on the grass, the heat of his body warming her chilled skin through their clothes. Her hand drifted up, and she threaded her fingers through his hair wonderingly, caressing it back. His eyes closed and he leaned into her hand, rumbling contentedly. "Why did you come after me?" she asked, the words slipping past her lips before she could stop them.

Logan opened his eyes and looked down at her seriously, his hand still stroking her hair absent-mindedly. "Did you think I wouldn't?" he asked. Marie nodded. "Don't you realise - don't you see the effect you have on me? I had no choice. I hadta follow you. I was terrified that asshole might've hurt you - and when I realised you were a mutant too, like me, I thought maybe..." He trailed off, and averted his gaze, twirling his fingers in her hair. Marie reached for her control, and put her hand on his face, turning him to look at her again. "I thought it might make it okay - I mean, I'm a monster, I know that. I'm a killer. But you said - in the bar that night, you talked about me like you knew me. I thought perhaps I could show you that I'm not all bad. I thought that maybe... that you might give me a chance."

"You're not a monster." She said it with all the force, all the conviction she could muster, hoping her tone would get through to him how seriously she meant it. "Don't say that." He shrugged. "Logan, you're **not**. You're a mutant, with a power that some people - most people - wouldn't understand, and would fear. You can't help that. If I'd known that you were the Claw Monster I'd never have had any doubts at all that you'd killed those people for a reason." She didn't know what drove her certainty - she just knew he wasn't evil. She could see - could smell, even - how much he regretted his past, how sad and how alone he was. There was a killer in her head, now, and he concurred that Logan wasn't anything like him. He said that Logan was weak, that he wouldn't have the nerve to take someone's life unless forced into it. "Sabretooth - I have his thoughts. He was like you in a way, except he gave way to his animal side. He liked the hunt; he loved to kill." Logan winced. "But he thinks that you're not like that. He thinks that's your weakness, but I don't: I think that's your strength. I think that you are powerful enough to hold that side of you back, to have enough control to know that killing for pleasure is - is just wrong."

He leaned down to kiss her reverently, gently. "That's why I followed you," he whispered, rubbing his nose against hers. "You believe in me. I don't know why, but you do. God help me; I can't let you go."

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	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter Ten_

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For a while they lay there by the stream, kissing gently, the passion between them tamped down for the present moment. They both seemed to realise that their time had not yet come, and felt content to merely lay in the comfort of each other's arms. Marie couldn't believe her luck. This gorgeous guy - this man who made her knees weak and her insides flutter, and who made her forget that her skin was a deadly weapon - this man seemed to want her just as much as she wanted him. He didn't seem the slightest bit afraid that she might hurt him. He didn't seem to mind her touch - actually seemed to welcome it. She was used to seeing people flinch from her when they knew what she could do. But he made her feel protected, cared-for... harmless. That in turn helped her self-possession, allowing her to stay more in control of her skin than she ever thought she could manage.

She didn't realise she was cold until he tangled his feet with hers. "Ooh, you're all warm," she purred, and he frowned.

"Your feet are freezing."

"Oh, sorry." Her jeans were sodden from the knees down. She tried to move her feet away, but he pulled her closer.

"I didn't realise - you're soaking. We need to get you warm, or you'll catch cold."

"I'll be okay," she said, snuggling into his warmth. "Superhealer now, remember?"

"Hmm." He gave her a lingering kiss, and then pulled away. "Come on. We're going to build a fire and dry us both off. Where are your shoes?" She pointed to the other bank. "Hmph. I'll get them. Stay here." She watched appreciatively as he paddled across and retrieved her shoes. Then he headed up the slope and came back with his own boots. "You're not so easy to sneak up on anymore," he said, showing them to her. "Hadta take precautions this time."

Marie grinned. "Glad I'm keeping you on your toes," she said.

Logan splashed back across, and handed her the shoes. "Dry your feet and put those on," he instructed.

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"And don't backchat me." Belying his stern voice, he caught her face in his hands and pulled her close to give her a searing kiss. "Stop being so irresistible, or we'll never leave here," he said, planting kisses across her eyelids.

"Mmm... We have to leave...?" It felt like heaven to be standing in the circle of his arms.

He continued to trail kisses along her face and neck, unable to stop himself. "Yes. I don't know about you, but my jeans are getting uncomfortable." He kissed his way along her jaw to her mischievous smile. "Because they're wet," he clarified, trying to frown quellingly. Her smile widened – and he swatted her backside.

"Hey!"

"Later," he promised, threateningly. She shivered deliciously, but not because of the cold this time.

"So where are we going, once we've dried out?" she asked as she struggled into her shoes.

"Well, we might as well spend the night out here. It's getting late, and I don't particularly wanna walk back in wet jeans. We can head back to the Princess in the morning." Her head snapped up. "No, I don't think you should stay there any longer, but I've got some business to finish up before I can leave."

"You're not - I don't want you to leave there because of me."

"I was gonna go soon anyhow. It's okay - they're used to it. Patrice don't mind." She could sense there was something he wasn't telling her, but she decided to accept it for the moment.

"What about Sabretooth? What if someone finds him?"

Logan grunted. "I hid him before I came after you. We'll go past there on the way back and do the job properly." He said it so matter-of-factly that she began to relax a little.

"And then what - once we leave? What do we do?" He looked back at her, a small, inscrutable smile on his lips.

"I've got a few ideas on that score."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

She waited. "You want to share with the class?" she prompted.

"Nah. Tell you later."

"Hmph." He continued to smile at her. "What?"

"Nothin'." She found herself smiling back, and wanted to laugh. She felt silly and light, and madly, crazily... in love?

When had that happened?

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They found a shallow dip in the hillside not far from the stream - barely a cave, just enough to create a small shelter over their heads in which they could spend the night. Marie got a fire going, whilst Logan vanished off to find something for them to eat. He came back with the carcass of a deer slung across his shoulders. "Good grief," said Marie, as he dropped it beside the fire.

He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

She tipped her head to one side. "No vegetables?"

"Sorry. Supermarket was all out. You can go scavenge for some if you want. Or there's lots of berries around, if you want dessert."

"Ooh - there's berries?" Marie looked around. Logan grinned.

"If you look hard enough, yeah." He looked around, and then pointed. "Hey presto," he said. "Those're blackberries."

Marie padded over to the bush to investigate. She turned back to Logan with a handful of juicy dark red berries, and saw he was eyeing her bare legs appreciatively. She blushed, and gestured to where her jeans were drying on a rock in front of the fire. "I, uh..."

"Good idea," he said, reaching for his buckle. Her pink blush turned to scarlet, but she couldn't turn away as he unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unzipped. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he stripped off his jeans to reveal boxers - control or no control; having a naked Logan around wouldn't be good for her state of mind. Hell, semi-naked Logan was having a bad enough effect on her. She watched him intently as he laid his jeans out next to hers, licking her lips thoughtfully, calculating the angle of pounce, so she could wrap herself around him and throw him to the... She shook her head slightly, trying to clear out the feral haze that was trying to overtake her. Logan turned around and met her gaze with one just as bad. "Stop thinkin' like that, if you wanna eat tonight," he said, huskily. "I can smell you wantin' me. You're makin' me crazy."

She realised she was stalking towards him, and tried to turn her walk into something a little less predatory. She sank down beside the fire, gripping her shirt tightly around herself in an effort to hold on to her self-control. She sternly held down the desire to jump him, but couldn't prevent her eyes from following his every movement. He prepared the meat swiftly, using his claws with an elegant sparseness of movement, and set it to cook over the fire. The rest of the carcass he carried away, explaining that he didn't want to attract wild animals to their camp. As the aroma of cooking venison wafted around her, Marie realised that she was starving.

They both ate ravenously, and then made themselves comfortable closer to the fire as the sun went down. Logan propped himself against a rock, and Marie leaned back against him, her head on his collarbone. He brushed a hand lazily up and down her shirt-covered arm as they sat and watched the fire pop and flare. She warned him to be careful - that having control meant concentrating, and she was too tired to do that right now. Logan's response was to pull her hair across her neck and kiss her through it, lingering long enough so that she could feel the warmth. She sighed happily and snuggled closer, tangling her legs - once again denim-clad - with his.

"Why are you here?" asked Logan, and she felt the words vibrate in his chest.

"Here? I take it you don't mean **here** here?" Marie indicated with a wave the little camp, the cave, the forest. Logan shook his head.

"In the Great White North," he replied. "Out in the middle of nowhere. You told me once you wanted to travel before your life was all planned out for you, but you never did tell me about who was doin' the plannin'."

Marie considered the question. She barely knew this man, really - but she trusted him. She made up her mind. "Not so long ago I was at a school - well, an institution - for mutants, although that wasn't the official version. Officially, it was a school for the 'gifted'. The Professor, the guy who runs it - he thinks that mutations are a gift. I'm not so sure it's a gift I wanted when I was sixteen and put a boy into a coma for three weeks. That was my first ever kiss. Short version: I left home, the Professor found me, and took me back to his school. They looked after me there - I finished school, and started to work on controlling my powers, I learnt that mutants could be just like humans... good and bad. They taught me other stuff, too - self-defence, that sort of thing. I guess they realised it wouldn't be easy, being me." She laughed softly. "When I was done with school I started doing a correspondence degree in English Lit. My heart wasn't really in it, but I wasn't sure what else to do. I still had to walk around in scarves and gloves all the time, so how was I gonna get on in the real world? How was I gonna get a job, make friends, have a life? Then the Professor offered me an alternative. Have you ever heard of the X-Men?"

"Buncha mutant do-gooder types? See 'em on the news sometimes."

"Yeah, well, the institution... Well, there was a lot more to it than met the eye, let's say. The Professor put the X-Men together; built up that team and kept it trained and supplied. When I finally quit the degree course he offered me a place with them. I accepted, and I started training. It took me about a month to work out that I really, really didn't want to be doing that. I didn't feel like a superhero. I didn't want to strap myself into a black leather catsuit and run around stopping bad guys and rescuing kittens from trees. The Professor thought that dressing up and saving the world would make people see mutants as less of a threat, but if anything it did the reverse. They saw us coming and they'd climb over one another to get out of the way. And the first proper fight I was in - well, my skin didn't turn out to be that useful, unless your idea of fun is a teammate who turns schizoid and forgets which people she shouldn't be shooting..." She sighed, lost in her memories. "We survived that, but as soon as I got back I told the Professor that I was through, and got the hell out. I had to get away. I wanted to be normal for a while. I figured that if I kept moving then I wouldn't be around long enough for people to get suspicious of me. I came north 'cause wearing gloves and scarves looks less weird up where it's cold. I ran out of money, got the job I've probably been fired from by now, and that's about the sum of it." There was silence. "Feel free to be totally sceptical," she said. "Even I don't believe the half of that, and I lived it." She waited nervously for his response. She'd never told anyone outside of the institute that much about her past before.

"Black leather catsuit, eh?" asked Logan, finally, surprising a smile from her.

"Yup. Knee-high boots, too. It's a miracle I could walk, let alone kick ass. I don't know who designed those things, but I'd bet they had a damn good laugh."

Logan smoothed her hair thoughtfully. "So you're a real live superhero. I wish I'd known that before. I wouldn'ta been so worried about ya spendin' all this time up here alone."

"You were worried about me?" Marie's heart skipped.

"'Course. Why d'you think I followed you out here all the time?"

Marie tipped her head back to look up into his face. "I was kinda hoping you were fascinated by my womanly charms," she said, grinning slyly.

"Nah," he said, nonchalantly, and she gave in to the urge to bite his arm. His response was instant: he grabbed her, and she shrieked as he flipped her to the ground, pinning her body down with his. "Some superhero," he said, laughing at her.

"I told you I wasn't any good at it," she said, giving up the struggle to get free. He was impossible to shift. Her breathing slowed and deepened at the same time his did, as they became aware of their position. Logan's hand slipped under her, cushioning her head. Neither one of them moved. "Logan," she said, and the sound of her own voice was strange to her. "I'm not sure I can - my skin... I don't want to hurt you."

His face hovered inches from hers, and she could feel the heat of his body. Her senses, still enhanced, picked up the change in his scent, the heavy note of wanting. She hoped he was strong enough to resist, because she was finding it increasingly difficult. She looked into his eyes, and she could barely remember her own name, let alone the caution she had to exercise. "When we get back..." he promised. He moved closer, and her eyes closed involuntarily, caught up in wanting. But all she felt was the sigh of air that passed his lips. "You'll be the death of me," he whispered.

He sat up, letting her up, and she curled against him again, listening to the rapid beating of his heart. "That's precisely what I'm trying to avoid," she said, sadly.

For a while they sat there in silence. Marie's eyelids began to feel heavy, as the events of the day caught up with her. The heat from the fire and from Logan was soothing. She stifled a yawn, and Logan's hand stopped, cupping her shoulder. "Go to sleep," he said gently.

Marie turned until she was curled against his chest. "What about you?" she asked, too tired to argue.

"I'm comfortable," he said. He wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned his cheek against the crown of her head.

She could feel herself drifting off to sleep, her eyelids too heavy to keep open now, her breathing and her thoughts slowing down. "Me too," she murmured drowsily. "This is good. We should stay here."

"Haveta go back sometime," said Logan.

"Uff. Don't wanna. Wanna... stay here... with you..."

"Don't worry," he said, against her hair. "I ain't leaving you anywhere. You're coming with me."

Something in his voice - some strong emotion - caught at her brain, spiralling rapidly down into sleep. All she managed, though, was an indistinct "'Kay," before she drifted off completely.

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	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter Eleven_

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Walking back into the Princess was like walking from peace and tranquillity straight into a war zone. It took the raised voices some moments to realise they were there, but when they did, a sudden hush fell. Marie smiled inwardly at the passing thought that they had brought some of the calm of the forest with them.

"Rogue!" said a familiar voice, and her heart sank.

"Scott? What're you doing here? And Jean, too, I see. How nice." She hoped Jean wasn't trying to read her thoughts, because they weren't very complimentary.

"I **told** you she was okay," said another voice, irritably. Patrice. Wonderful.

"Were you about to send out Search and Rescue?" inquired Marie, lightly.

"Are you all right, Rogue?" asked Jean, concern in her voice.

"I'm jus' peachy, thanks. How're you?"

"What happened?" demanded Scott. "This lady said you hadn't turned up for your shift. She insisted that you were all right, but wouldn't tell us how she knew that. Where have you been? Were you out in the forest all night?"

Marie put her hands on her hips. "You want to start that over again, Scott?" she asked acerbically. "Beginning with the part where you explain why you're here? And maybe passing through what gives you the right to know my every move?"

Scott frowned. "We were concerned about you, Rogue," he said, sternly. "We are your friends. Doesn't that give us the right to worry about your welfare?"

"Oh, good grief. Did I write the wrong date of birth on the Institute application papers or something? I'm **twenty-one**, Scott. My spending a night out camping isn't good cause for getting your panties in a twist."

"Camping?" asked Scott, suspicious, but slightly appeased by her tone. She was clearly uninjured. "Where's your equipment, then?"

"We went al fresco," said Marie, breezily. "Spur of the moment thing. Sleeping under the stars, you know? You should try it. It's very relaxing," she added, pointedly. He was about to argue, but she headed him off. "Why **are** you here, anyway? I thought the Professor agreed to let me have some time alone."

Scott looked askance at Patrice. "Can we talk to you in private?" he asked Marie. "I don't think that-"

"Patrice won't say anything to anyone." Everyone looked at Logan. "She can keep a secret," he added calmly.

"And you are-?"

"He's Logan. He owns this place," said Patrice, scowling. Marie turned to look at Logan in shock. He shrugged, and smiled a tiny, apologetic smile at her.

"Explain it later," he said to her.

"Riiiiiight. Anyhow. Logan - Jean, Scott," she introduced, quickly. "Jean, Scott - Logan. And you all seem to have met Patrice."

Scott and Jean looked doubtfully at the truants. "You went camping with this man?" asked Scott, "and you didn't know he was your employer?"

Marie glared at Scott. "You want to tell me any of your nasty suspicions, or d'you just want to go on insinuating?" she challenged.

"Don't you think it's reasonable to find that situation dubious?" retorted Scott. "You spend a night out in the woods with someone you apparently barely know, with no camping equipment, and missing an entire day of work. Don't you think that seems a little peculiar, to say the least?"

For some reason, the realisation that Scott had been genuinely worried had a calming effect on Marie. "I suppose it would," she said. "But instead of leaping to the conclusion that something bad happened, would you try to remember that I am a responsible adult, who has proved in the past that she can look after herself. You trained me - remember?" She pointed at him. "You taught me how to defend myself physically." She turned to Jean. "You and the Professor started me on the road to controlling my powers. Don't you think I'm able to make decisions like who I should or shouldn't spend time alone with? And doesn't the fact that I'm back here, and perfectly all right, show you that I might be right in my choices?"

Scott frowned, but Jean put her hand on his arm placatingly. "She's right, Scott," she said. "She's unharmed. And she is an adult. We haven't the right to question her actions, however outwardly unusual." She met Marie's grateful eyes. "It's not important right now. Marie, we came down here because we have reason to think that you are going to be attacked. We've received information about a powerful mutant named Magneto. We aren't sure why, but we do believe he may try to abduct you. We came to take you back to the school. You'll be safe there."

Marie and Logan exchanged a look. "I don't think that'll be necessary," said Logan.

"Mr. Logan-" began Scott.

"Just Logan."

"Logan, then. Magneto is an extremely powerful and resourceful mutant. I appreciate that Marie appears to have been safe with you, but I don't think you understand the extent of the danger. She would be safer back at the school, where we can defend her."

To Marie's complete surprise, Logan sprang his claws. He stepped forwards, so he was slightly in front of her. "I can take care of her, bub," he growled.

Scott looked taken aback. "You - you're a mutant, too?" He shook his head. "It doesn't make any difference. Those are metal, right? Magneto's power is that he can manipulate any metal. If he comes after you-"

"Uh, he already did," interposed Marie. Everyone looked at her. "Well, he sent an associate. Sabretooth. Put those away, Logan, we're all very impressed." She gave him a sly wink, and he tilted his eyebrow at her good-humouredly, and sheathed the claws.

"Sabretooth? My god, what happened?" Jean looked alarmed. "I've heard about him," she explained. "He's a monster."

"He **was** a monster," said Marie, succinctly. "He won't be coming after me any more. I killed him."

"Your skin?" asked Scott. Marie nodded, not wanting to talk about the turmoil in her mind. "Are you all right?"

"I'm coping." And that was really all she wanted to say on the matter. "So you see, I should be safe now - what?" Scott and Jean had exchanged a look. Scott was already shaking his head.

"Magneto is determined. Sabretooth's death - well, it'll set him back, I should imagine, but it won't stop him. I really think you should come back with us. It's the only way we can be sure you'll be safe."

"For how long?" asked Marie. "I mean, do I have to hide until he gets bored and gives up? Because if he's that determined... I know why he wants me," she said, suddenly remembering. Images from Sabretooth's mind came unbidden to the surface. "He has a machine - it sends out this kinda radiation that can artificially mutate humans, turn them into mutants. He powers it himself, but it's dangerous - the trial run nearly killed him. He wants to transfer his powers to me, and use me to run the machine." She came back to the present with a jolt, feeling like she'd been a long way off. "And he can fuck right off," she added, sharply.

Scott grinned briefly. Marie was relieved to see it. He might act like he had a pole up his ass, but deep down, carefully concealed, was Scott's dry sense of humour. "Come back with us," he said, persuasively this time. "With your information we should be able to stop whatever he's doing, and then you can get on with your life."

The offer was actually quite tempting. "I don't know..." she said, wavering. She looked at Logan. He shrugged.

"It's up to you," he said, non-committally. Marie stepped closer to him, looking up into his eyes, wanting to know how he really felt. "I want you to be safe," he said, frowning. Marie glanced at the others.

"Would you excuse us for a minute?" Without waiting for a response, she grabbed Logan's hand and led him outside into the yard. It was deserted, and she shut the door behind them, and then leaned gratefully into his arms. He held her close, tucking her head under his chin. "I feel safe with you," she said, after a minute.

He kissed the top of her head. "You are. But if this Magneto guy has power over metal... well, he'd pretty much own me. I've got metal all through me, over all my bones. I don't know if I can fight him."

"**I** can fight this asshole," said Marie, slightly indignant. "You know, I'm sure I remember telling everyone I took down Sabretooth, but still you all think I need protecting." She felt Logan chuckle.

"Okay, so you're a real tough-guy. But you can bet he's not gonna make it so easy next time, once he figures out his muscleman ain't coming back. He'll come in with an army, or-"

"Or a surprise attack?" said a cultured voice from above them, in a gently humorous tone. Logan froze, and Marie found herself locked within his arms, unable to struggle free. An elderly gentleman in a bizarre helmet and long flowing cloak descended gently from the sky, and Marie wondered for a second if she were hallucinating. "Really, my dear, you made it far too easy for me this time. It was a pity about poor Sabretooth, but it was inevitable that one day his recklessness would be his downfall. I, however, am slightly harder to, ah, get the jump on."

"Dammit! Let me go!" growled Logan, his entire body tensed. Magneto looked surprised.

"Why? You would like a sporting chance, perhaps?" He smiled gently. "I don't have time to play games. You see, you are much too useful." He held up his hand, and Logan pivoted, Marie still held tightly in his arms. "Restraints and transport, all in one," said Magneto. "Remarkable." He pinched his fingers together, and Marie gasped as Logan's embrace tightened ruthlessly. Logan growled from deep in his chest. "Please don't struggle, my dear Rogue. I would hate to have to make this gentleman hurt you." Logan growled even more.

"Why are you doing this?" she panted. Magneto's face was serene as the three of them rose off the ground.

"It is the only way," he said. "The only way. I am sorry."

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	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter Twelve - only one more to go!_

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They flew a short way to where a helicopter awaited them, a short, greasy-looking man at the helm. Magneto laid them together on the back seat, Logan pinning Marie down with his body, much to the amusement of the pilot. "Come, Toad," said Magneto imperiously, and climbed into the front passenger seat. Toad hopped in, and they took off.

"Logan," whispered Marie, trying to lean her head back to look at him. Logan was sweating, every muscle in his body tensed. The tendons in his neck stood out. "Are you all right?" His only response was to bare his teeth in a snarl. "Logan?" His eyes rolled slightly, and Marie started to get seriously worried - well, even more so than she already was. Logan didn't seem to understand her - he seemed to have gone into some kind of frozen frenzy. "Come back to me," she whispered to him, feeling desperately alone. "Logan, it's me. It's Marie. I need you with me." She tried to keep her voice even, hoping that the sound of it would calm him and bring him back down.

"Grrrr..." The sound wasn't comforting. It spoke directly to the primal part of her brain, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. It was a sound that made her want to climb the nearest tree for safety.

"Logan," she said again. Where the hell were Scott and Jean when you needed them? She yelled out with her mind, hoping that Jean would hear her, but there was no response. Sabretooth piped up in her head, offering his opinion that Logan was going berserk at being restrained, and that the only thing that might bring him back down was an acknowledgement of his dominance. Deliberately, she caught his eye, and then dropped her gaze submissively. His growl died down to a low menacing rumble deep in his chest, and she could feel his full attention turn to her. "Logan," she murmured, hoping her tone at least would get through to him.

"Grrrr...?"

She checked with the instincts Sabretooth had given her, and leaned her head to one side, blinking her eyes lazily at him and exposing the tender skin of her neck. It wasn't hard work to try to please Logan, to make him focus on her - to make him want her. She only wished that she were doing it under more agreeable circumstances. She reached for her control, clamping down hard on her skin. She would not hurt him, not for anything.

"Rrrrr..." The growl was changing in tone, softening, becoming more of a purr. He leaned his head forwards and bit down on her jugular - not hard enough to draw blood, but not gently, either. For a moment he held her there, breathing against her skin, and she couldn't have moved if she'd wanted to. Then he ran his tongue over the bite mark, soothing it, and Marie shivered as her blood heated up. The effect he had on her was incredible - so fast, so overpowering. She breathed out as he traced a gentle trail up her throat with his tongue, to her jaw line, nipping at her chin. He nuzzled at her face, wanting more but not knowing how to ask for it, and she turned her head until her mouth was pressed against his. He kissed her eagerly, tangling his tongue with hers, until her head was spinning. She held grimly on to her control, drunk on sensation.

"Logan..." she sighed.

"Marie..." She opened her eyes, and looked up at him. He met her gaze, his eyes focused on the here and now once more. Then he closed his eyes and kissed her some more, for good measure, then leaned his forehead against hers. They were both breathless. "Oh, baby... We've gotta get outta here." She mumbled her agreement. "I've just gotta get you alone."

She gave a choke of laughter. "Think of it as an incentive," she suggested. He kissed her again, biting her bottom lip. "Mmm..."

"I've gotta concentrate on a plan," he said. "Stop smellin' so damn good."

"I can't help that," she protested. "Anyhow, I thought I was the one who used to wear the leather catsuit. Shouldn't I be coming up with the plans?"

"Hmph. You're not the only one with gifts," said Logan. Marie raised her eyebrow in imitation of him.

"No. Or a mysterious past. You still owe me an explanation, mister; don't think that being kidnapped by psychopaths is gonna make me forget it."

Logan grunted. "Are your friends gonna be any help?" he asked quietly, dropping into a more serious mode.

"I don't know. Jean is a telepath, so I was hoping I might be able to reach her. But we'll probably be out of her range by now. If they've brought the Jet they should be able to catch up - if they even know we've gone."

"Too many 'ifs'. So we can't rely on 'em. Fine pair of superheroes they are."

Marie shrugged. "You know, I thought I'd left all this behind me," she said, annoyed. "All I wanted was a normal life. This just sucks."

At that moment she froze, as a voice resounded in her head. _Rogue. Can you hear me?_ It was Jean.

"Marie?" asked Logan, frowning.

"Jean," she whispered. _I can hear you._

_We're following you. What's the situation?_ Instead of explaining, Marie looked around - to where Magneto and Toad sat, to Logan's concerned face and frozen body. _I see. Can you create a diversion?_

_When?_

_Fifteen seconds. And hang on tight._

"Oh shit," she breathed. "Logan, we need a diversion in, oh, about ten seconds. And Jean says to hang on. Any bright ideas?"

Logan nodded, and kissed her swiftly. "Take care of yourself," he said, rapidly. "Don't worry about me - I heal." There was no time to argue - Marie nodded, but vowed to herself that she wasn't going to let him get hurt. He began a low, rumbling growl, deep in his chest, and Marie watched in awe as his sight turned inward, working himself up into a snarling rage. She could feel the way his muscles were straining against his very bones. He gritted his teeth, his breath coming short and fast. He roared, and the claws sprang out either side of her head, making her flinch - and Magneto's head turned. Marie heard Jean's voice in her head, as she saw Magneto's lips move, and Toad glance back. All of a sudden, a beam of red light shot out, and the helicopter shook with the force of a huge blow, and then, terrifyingly, began to plunge. Magneto flung his hands out and up, fighting the juddering metal frame, and their descent slowed.

"Scott shot the rotor!" yelled Marie above the sudden deafening groaning of metal. Logan's body came loose, and he was up and across the cabin before Marie had even registered that Magneto must have dropped his hold over the metal bones. Claws swiped through the partition separating the cabins, and Magneto arched as they sank effortlessly into his neck, and the helicopter plunged once again. Toad and Marie watched, horrified, as Logan sliced upwards. Magneto cried once, silently, and collapsed against his door.

Plummet, said Marie's brain, in a tiny, calm voice. Plunge. Crash. Ohshitohshitohshit.

The helicopter began to scream as it dropped out of the sky. Toad glanced behind him, and caught Marie's eye. "So long, suckers," he mouthed, and jumped, yanking at his parachute cord. Logan span around in time to catch Marie as she hurtled across the cabin.

"Great plan!" she shouted. "Now what?"

Logan sliced the partition away with a sweep of his claws, and pulled the blood-drenched parachute from Magneto's back. "Put this on!" he yelled.

"What about you?" she shouted, struggling into the straps.

"I'm too heavy! I'll heal!"

"No!" she screamed, clinging to him.

"Goddammit, put it on!"

_Jump,_ came a voice in Marie's head. _I can probably catch you._

"Probably?!" exclaimed Marie, aloud. Logan looked at her, and she made up her mind. It was the only way. "We jump together," she shouted.

"No! I'll drag you down!"

"Jean! Telekinetic!" she explained shortly. That decided it. Logan put both arms about her, and gave her a fierce grin. She saw his mouth move as he spoke quietly to her, and although she couldn't hear it, she made out the words.

"Always wanted to go out with a bang."

"Idiot!" she said, fondly, and kissed him. "It'll be more like a splat." And they jumped.

Ground/sky/ground/sky/groundgroundground, and Logan was yelling: "Pull it!" She pulled the ripcord, and they jerked, slowing, but still too fast, and the ground was coming up, and there was the Jet, and now they were going sideways, and there was the open hatch, with Jean standing there, hands to her head and a look of intense concentration, and they were gonna hit it too fast! and -

"Oof!"

Blackout.

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	13. Chapter 13

_Chapter Thirteen - the last one!_

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She woke up to Logan's face leaning over her. He was as pale as a ghost, looking as though he wasn't sure if he wanted to yell at her or kiss her. "Have we stopped?" she asked groggily.

Logan was glowering, and she wondered if he was angry with her, and if so, why. "Do you remember what happened?" he asked.

She put her hand to her head, which was pounding. It came away sticky with blood, but when she probed in alarm she couldn't locate any wounds. She must have healed. "Yeah. I was run over by a supersonic jet. Not something I'm gonna forget anytime soon."

"Oh, thank fuck." His head disappeared downwards, and after a startled moment she realised that he'd sat heavily on the floor. She sat up and looked around: they were on the Jet. She slid off the seats to kneel by Logan, who looked like he was having trouble breathing.

"Logan? You all right, sugar?"

"Thank fuck," he repeated, and put his arms around her, pulling her into an embrace so tight that she could hardly breathe. "Don't **ever** do that again!"

"What'd I do?" She sifted through her memories, trying to remember what she might have done wrong. Being kidnapped? Jumping out of a crashing helicopter?

"You tried to shield me, you little idiot," he scolded, taking her face in his hands. "We were heading for the Jet, and you yelled something about 'too fast', and pulled us around so you hit it first. Weren't you listening when I told you I heal? If it hadn't been for Sabretooth's healing powers, and that hard skull of yours..." His voice caught, and he smothered her in his embrace again. "Don't ever scare me like that again," he said, his voice muffled in her neck.

She stroked his hair, making soothing noises, trying to remember. She recalled heading towards the Jet, and thinking that they were going too fast... and after that, all was blackness. "I didn't mean to," she said. "I don't even remember... it must've been just instinct. I'm sorry." Intellectually, she knew he was far more likely to survive such an impact, but she couldn't promise not to do it again. The recollection of hurtling towards the ground had her clutching him tightly. "I didn't want to lose you."

"You won't lose me," he said. He brushed her hair back with one hand, still holding her close. "Oh, darlin', you won't ever get rid of me." Their lips met with the desperate need to feel that they were really safe, really alive, really together.

"Ahem." They broke apart to see Jean smiling at them, leaning casually on one of the seats. "Glad to see you're okay, Rogue," she grinned. "Been working on your control, have you?"

Marie moved swiftly away from Logan, startled, and then realised that she'd been touching him and he wasn't hurt. She searched inwards, briefly. "I'm controlling it!" she exclaimed. "I didn't even think about it... I can do it! Oh, my god..." She gave Logan a huge kiss, which deepened, until Jean moved tactfully away to talk to Scott. They finally broke apart, and Marie leaned her head against Logan's. "I have a confession," she whispered, for his ears alone. "I think I'm in love with you."

Logan blinked. He glanced at Jean and Scott, who were at the other end of the plane, deliberately not looking back. He looked back at Marie, gazing happily up at him, and really couldn't stop the words on the tip of his tongue: "I love ya, too, Marie."

Her whole face lit up. "Really?" She was still whispering.

Logan shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, yeah." He touched her nose with his. "You're mine. You know that, right?"

Know it? All her instincts were screaming it. "Yeah. And you're mine, sugar. Something I intend to demonstrate once I finally get you alone." He growled involuntarily, deep in his throat. She sniffed slightly, and grimaced. "**After** I've had a shower."

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Jean and Scott dropped them off just outside of town, giving Marie assurances that they'd listen out for any sign of repercussions from their little adventure. It seemed unlikely that there would be any. A sense of déjà vu settled over Marie as they started to walk back into town. She hung back, and Logan looked around at her, surprised. "What's up?"

Marie stopped in the middle of the road. "Do we have to go back to the Princess right now? I mean, it's nice an' all," she said, belatedly remembering that he owned it. "But isn't there... Where do you live? Have you got a home around here somewhere? Can't we go there?"

Logan took her hand and looked down at her, solemnly. "You sure?" he asked, a wealth of meaning in his tone. Marie discovered that she suddenly couldn't trust her voice. She nodded instead. "Come on." He held her hand tightly the whole way, leading her to a small house on the edge of town, slightly cut off from the others around it. It was set in the borderland that separated the town from the forest, and Marie thought how appropriate that was for him - no, for them both. A faded sign by the gate read 'The Beeches'. Beside the front porch were approximately two motorbikes: one complete, lovingly shined, black and chrome Harley, and the dismantled, oily remains of at least one more. She thought of what her mother would say, and grinned wryly.

The house was small, comfortably - if shabbily - furnished, tidier than she'd (for some reason) expected, and with remarkably few personal possessions around. Above the fireplace hung a huge Samurai sword, and a couple of photograph frames sat on the mantelpiece. She stood in the centre of the room, uncertain of what to do now. Logan slumped exhaustedly onto the couch, and kicked off his boots. He leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. "I could sleep for a week," he yawned. He cracked open one eye, and looked at her. "You wanna sit down or somethin'?" He closed his eye again, and waved a hand. "Make yourself at home."

Marie sat on a chair opposite Logan. She stared at his relaxed form, unnerved, and trying to work out why. She wasn't being kidnapped, or attacked, she wasn't camping in the woods, or running away, or pretending to be human, or any of the usual situations that normally made up her life. She could just relax, be herself. That was what was throwing her, she realised. She wasn't used to being accepted like this. "What now?" she asked him.

Logan opened his eyes and looked at her for a long moment, his head still resting back against the couch. "Now? Don't you know?" Marie shook her head. Logan beckoned, and she stood up and went to stand in front of him. "Now we live happily ever after." He reached for her hand, and held it, stroking his thumb along her knuckles.

The corner of Marie's mouth twitched up. "And how do we go about doing that?" she asked, innocently.

"Well..." He smiled - crookedly, impudently - up at her, and she could see he had a few ideas up his sleeve. That was all right - so did she. He tugged on her hand, and she dropped willingly into his lap. He ran his free hand into her hair, and then, at her tiny nod, ran a thumb across her cheek. She closed her eyes and sighed, revelling at the feel of skin on skin. "Come away with me," he said, softly. Marie opened her eyes again.

"Where?"

"Away. With me."

Marie tipped her head to one side, regarding him affectionately. "Anywhere in particular?"

"Nope. Just away." Logan dropped both hands to her hips, and pulled her closer to his warmth. "Don't you wanna see what's beyond this little ol' place? Up high on that mountain, f'r instance, up close to the stars. Or beyond that, far as the eye can see, or further. D'you wanna see what's in that far off purple distance? See what's out there - just 'cause we can? We can go anywhere, you an' me, an' so long as we're together we don't haveta be lonely strangers. You get me?"

Marie snuggled closer, and put her arms about his neck. "I getcha. You've convinced me. So when're we off?"

He ran a hand up her back, then down again to dip under her shirt and touch her bare skin, and her pulse quickened as she met his heated expression. "Tomorrow, sweetheart. Tomorrow."

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A small late-afternoon rain cloud breezed through the town, sprinkling the rooftops and roads, softening and smoothing the edges of everything it touched. The pattering on their window was gentle enough not to disturb the usually acute senses of two people in an upstairs room of a small house, curled asleep in each other's arms. Perhaps the cloud felt that they'd had enough excitement for a while. It passed on, and left them to rest.

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END.

_A/N: Thank you to everyone who's given me feedback, it's been really great hearing your thoughts on the story - this one was entirely finished before I posted it here, so I couldn't use any of the ideas you gave me - but if I ever write a sequel... _

_Incidentally, for those interested in the comics, Wolverine owned a bar in Madripoor called the Princess. Yes, it's not my idea. It was a bit of a dive, to be honest, so I spruced it up some, got in some new management, and moved it, lock, stock and barrel, to Canada. _


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